


The Fourth Wedding

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 14:41:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23075905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: The seeds sowed at one wedding seem to carry over to the next… And the next… And the next…
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 10
Kudos: 89





	The Fourth Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Fluffy plot that just rather appeared out of nowhere. Bad title but I don’t know what else to call it.

**The First Wedding**

Half of the table was empty when the song played during which they were invited to take the dance floor.

Hermione hated weddings. But she really hated attending weddings without a date. If it weren’t for her new friendship with Astoria and longer friendship with Pansy, she wouldn’t have been caught dead at Draco Malfoy’s wedding. She supposed it was her notoriety rather than close ties that earned her a seat at the wedding party’s table. The group was away, being photographed while there was still light.

So, when the few others at the table paired up to dance, Hermione was left awkwardly alone. Her lonely situation compounded as Draco and Astoria as well as their families returned to the ballroom.

“It’s our table’s song!” Astoria exclaimed.

The bride noted that Hermione was alone and glanced at the wizards around her. With a sinking sensation, Hermione gleaned what was about to happen. Astoria said something to her father-in-law and Lucius Malfoy’s gaze met Hermione’s.

Butterflies burst inexplicably through her gut as the suave wizard approached her, holding her gaze all the while. He held out his hand and, just as inexplicably, she set hers in it. Feeling feather-light, Hermione followed the Malfoy patriarch to the dancefloor.

Led by a partner without equal in grace and skill, Hermione practically floated in his arms. She chanced a glance up at the enigmatic man. So close, his eyes were liquid silver and she wondered why the day’s growth of beard was dark when his hair was pale.

One of his brows raised in response to her curios examination and the hand on her back slid to her hip. Heat flooded Hermione’s cheeks and trickled down her neck to warm her breasts and peak her nipples. She looked up at the wizard through her lashes and recognized interest mirrored in his eyes.

“May I cut in?”

Lucius released Hermione as if stung.

“Ms. Granger, I’m glad to see you once more!”

“Hello, Professor Slughorn,” Hermione greeted the rotund man.

“Call me Horace, dear girl! You haven’t been my student for years,” he chuckled, guiding Hermione through a fatherly version of the dance.

Quite shocked out of the early stages of arousal, Hermione focused on conversing with her old professor and almost forgot about the moment she’d shared with Lucius.

Almost.

**The Second Wedding**

There was only one reason that Hermione attended Kingsley Shacklebolt’s wedding to Narcissa Malfoy but she’d be damned if she’d admit it to a soul. This time, Hermione was seated at the singles’ table. She made small talk with a skinny wizard to her left and wondered about the empty seat to her right. When skinny asked her to dance, Hermione politely declined. She gathered her scarf and abandoned the sad table. While they were known to have divorced amicably, she was all sorts of fool, hoping to run into a wizard at his ex-wife’s wedding…

There he was. At the bar. Surely that distinct, white hair could only belong to one individual. Hermione’s heart skipped and she halted mid-exit, wondering if she was bold enough to approach him. Before she knew it, her feet had carried her to the barstool beside him.

“Whiskey highball,” Hermione said softly to the bartender.

“Ginger ale?” he affirmed.

“Please.”

Finally, Lucius sat up from his defeated lean against the bar and had a look at Hermione.

“Well, well,” he greeted. “Ms. Granger. You’re looking delectable,” he purred, lifting his tumbler in salute.

“Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you, again.”

The wizard made a sound of agreement and emptied his glass.

“Will you dance with me?” Hermione asked, emboldened to realize that he might be quite drunk.

Slitted eyes peered at her but Lucius gained his feet. “I would like that very much,” he hissed.

There was little propriety in the closeness with which Lucius held Hermione and there was even less attention paid to the melody. If Lucius was inebriated with drink, Hermione was inebriated with him. Bourbon scented breath and warm hands guided Hermione through steps and held her glued to his length. Delighted by Lucius’ tight grasp, she twined her fingers into the lapels of his dress robes. Her fingertips measured the beats of his heart. Every brush of his thighs against hers sent heat reverberating up her spine.

When their steps slowed, Hermione lifted her head from the wizard’s shoulder.

“My dear,” Lucius whispered. “Thank you for the dance.”

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” she replied as he led her from the dancefloor and separated from her.

**The Third Wedding**

Harry Potter’s wedding to Pansy Parkinson was a ridiculously massive affair, Harry’s acquiescence to his new wife’s wishes. As Pansy’s Maid of Honor, Hermione was, once again, seated with the wedding party during the reception. While Narcissa and Kingsley were among the guests, Hermione had not spotted Lucius. She sipped water and observed guests, contemplating heading home for the book waiting on her bedside table.

“Ms. Granger.”

The greeting, spoken in a low tone beside her ear, was so welcome that Hermione shut her eyes against a sudden welling of tears. Had she imagined his voice?

A warm hand fell lightly on her shoulder and Hermione opened her eyes. The sight of Lucius beside her, positively gorgeous in black dress robes, stole her breath. Floating with tight anticipation and repressed joy, Hermione followed him.

When Lucius pulled her into his arms, Hermione didn’t immediately realize that they were not on the dance floor. He’d led her from the tent away from the crowd into the surrounding woods. The rustle of the wind through the tree branches, the pine needles crunching under their shoes, and the murmurs of the nearby celebration was their music.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” Hermione confessed, cheek pressed to his chest.

“Pansy’s like a daughter to us,” Lucius breathed, hand slipping down her spine with familiarity.

Hermione noticed that he’d said ‘us.’ It was touching that he still had a relationship with his ex-wife and could group them. Of course, he could always be delusional…

In wistful bliss associated with dreaming, Hermione relished being led through slow steps by the wizard holding her. He, it seemed, was content as well. He’d sought her out.

After what seemed like too short a time, Lucius brought them to a slow halt and pressed a kiss to Hermione’s hair.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you…” he whispered, sending warmth pouring down Hermione’s insides.

Eyes closed, she imagined taking their physical connection further. While they didn’t exchange many words, Hermione felt they were on equal footing, mentally. Aside from Lucius’ having been a Death Eater – Hermione put a stop to her thoughts. She simply wanted to enjoy his attention; she didn’t fancy herself a witch who many wizards wanted to do much of anything with, let alone, dance and flirt.

“I wish I was a better wizard,” he whispered.

As if he was a spirit or hallucination, he released Hermione and was gone.

Abandoned so suddenly, Hermione was enveloped by a chill. As cold seeped into her veins, replacing the honeyed heat Lucius had inspired, frustration began to build.

That was where Pansy found her.

“What are you doing out here, Granger? Are you crying?”

Swiping hastily under her eyes, Hermione shook her head.

“Tell me what’s happened or I’ll get Harry out here,” Pansy sighed, summoning a pair of chairs from inside the tent and settling into one. “No one’s hurt you, have they?” she suddenly asked, voice sharp.

“No! Nothing like that,” Hermione replied, finding her voice as she sat down. “At Astoria’s wedding – goodness, was that nine months ago?”

“Mm, ten,” Pansy replied.

“Well, that game she arranged – each table had to get up and dance when the song assigned to their table was played.”

“Don’t remind me,” Pansy groaned.

“Yes, well Astoria sent her father-in-law to partner me.”

“I seem to recall seeing you dance with him. Oh dear. What’s he done?”

“Nothing. That’s the trouble,” Hermione sighed.

“Is it..?” Pansy purred.

**An Hour Later**

“What in Circe’s name are you doing with the Muggle-born girl?”

Lucius looked up from his bourbon. He’d been hoping to finish the drink, wish Pansy well, and escape un-harassed. Apparently, Narcissa had other plans.

“What?” he asked gruffly as she sat beside him.

“Granger. What are you doing with her?” she asked, only slightly cattily.

“Nothing,” Lucius scowled.

“I saw you with her at my wedding, Lucius. And, I hear you’re _torturing_ her…”

Lucius remained quiet. If Hermione felt tortured then he was absolutely correct to cease all contact. Moving with her, holding her, brought him excitement and peace at the same time. The little witch fit perfectly in his arms and he didn’t remember physically desiring a woman more.

“Silence? Even more suspicious…” Narcissa playfully hissed.

“You know nothing,” he finally sighed.

“Being stubborn will bring you nothing, Lucius.”

“I’m old enough to be her father,” he muttered angrily through his teeth. Narcissa’s calm amusement ruffled him.

“She does not appear to care.”

“You know better than most what I’ve done in service to the Dark Lord,” he grumbled in a low tone, uninterested in being overheard. There were so many reasons to stay away from Hermione.

“I do. It’s all in the past and forgiven,” Narcissa said lightly. “You must care a great deal what she thinks…” she added wistfully.

“All the worse for her,” Lucius snapped.

Narcissa slowly stood, “I had no idea, Lucius. I’m a little jealous…” She pressed her hand to his shoulder. “Swallow your pride, my dear. For what it’s worth, I believe that young witch could make you happy.”

**Two Days Later in Diagon Alley**

As Hermione stepped out of the apothecary into the foggy evening, she was unprepared for a shadow to detach from beside the shop and join her.

“What would you have of me?” hissed Lucius Malfoy. 

“Mother of Merlin! What are you doing?” Hermione squeaked, clutching her wand to her chest.

“I hardly know,” he replied, appearing haunted and surly.

“In answer to your question, neither do I,” she replied, glancing about. At the late hour, Diagon Alley was sparsely populated. They were unlikely to be observed and less likely to be overheard.

“My wife – my ex-wife – told me that I’m torturing you.”

“Did she?” Hermione frowned, recognizing her own words. What had he heard?

“Am I?”

“Those were my precise words. How odd that she knew…” she sighed.

“I suppose that depends upon to whom you spoke them,” Lucius replied, voice more confident.

“Pansy,” Hermione breathed.

“Like a daughter to us…”

“I should have known better,” she said with another sigh.

“Don’t blame her,” Lucius purred.

“What do you want, Mr. Malfoy?” Hermione asked, fixing him with a glare.

“You. Desperately.”

Unprepared for the wizard’s confession, she merely stared at him. Hermione appreciated that he’d put himself in a vulnerable position. Her heart skipped and then began to race. Perhaps, they might build something substantial out of a handful of dances…

Hermione closed the distance between them and dropped all pretenses, allowing him to see that she desired him.

“Come home with me.”

**Three Months Later**

**The Fourth Wedding. **


End file.
